My Fault
by chocolatequeen
Summary: Different people's reactions to Sydney going into the drink
1. Weiss

AN: This is a serious of very short introspectives from different people as they react to Syd's car going into the drink. The first is Weiss, all the rest are labeled in the chapter titles. In a way, it weaves together in a story as we see each person at a later point on the timeline.  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned it, I would have better things to do than write fic and wonder how I got to be so lucky that my boss looks like Michael Vartan.  
  
It's been a long day. And not just an ordinary long day either, this was a break the law in more ways than I can count long day. I'm an officer with the CIA, I'm supposed to be upholding the law. But today I broke someone out of federal custody and then aided and abetted the fugitive.  
  
Why am I talking like some pretentious lawyer? I helped Sydney Bristow get away from the FBI, plain and simple. I did it because not because I know she's innocent, but because I know Vaughn believes that and he needs a chance to prove it.  
  
I have to say I'm loving the adrenaline rush. It's not everyday you steal your best friend's girlfriend away from the FBI. Yeah, I know they're not dating and probably never will in the traditional sense, but those two are more "together" than half the couples I know.  
  
Right now I'm on my way to the employee lounge for a cup of coffee. I know I'll need the caffeine before this night is over. Someone left the TV on again… I'm about to turn it off, uninterested by yet another high speed chase, but then I realize something. I recognize the car.  
  
Forgetting about the coffee, I race back toward Vaughn's office. "You have to see this!" I insist as I turn on the small TV he keeps there.  
  
"What are you doing?" he asks in bewilderment and irritation.  
  
"Look at this… do you see what's happening here?" I ask as I gesture wildly at the screen.  
  
He glances at it and looks at me with a bored expression. "Yeah, it's a car chase, big deal."  
  
"Look at the car Michael."  
  
I can tell the exact moment he realizes what's going on. His face turns white and he utters one word. "Merde," he whispers as he sinks back into his seat.  
  
We sit in silence as we watch the scene unfold. There's no way out for Syd, we both know that. The only thing we don't know is how it's going to end.  
  
Fifty yards from the ocean she stops, surrounded. The police get out of their cars and train their weapons on her. Holding our breath, we wait for her to get out of the car. After an interminable pause, she does the unthinkable.  
  
Sydney Bristow just drove into the Pacific. One glance at Vaughn's tortured expression and I know exactly what he's thinking. He's thinking this is his fault.  
  
But it's my fault too. I should have tried to stop him from doing it, instead of helping him. I should have tried to tell him that it's possible that the prophecy is true. Months ago when I saw him begin to love her, I should have told Devlin and had him removed as her handler.  
  
My best friend just lost his agent, and it's my fault. 


	2. Vaughn

It's my fault. I watched in mute horror as her car went over the edge, that one thought echoing in my mind. It's my fault.  
  
How could I blame anyone else? It was my idea to break her out of FBI custody. I made the calls, I arranged it. It was at my request that Devlin had the jet standing by. Of course Jack helped by getting Haladki to tell us her location… I would have loved to have seen the look on that pompous jerk's face when he was face to face with an angry Jack Bristow… but nevertheless it is still my fault.  
  
Maybe they were right, maybe I am—was—too emotionally attached. Maybe if I'd been more objective I wouldn't have felt this need to protect her, to vindicate her name. Maybe then she would still be alive.  
  
And that is yet another thing that is my fault. She died not really knowing how I feel—felt—about her. Oh sure, we hinted around about it, but I never told her, she never got to hear those words I know she needed to hear. How difficult would it have been? "Sydney, I think I'm falling in love with you." Instead I settled for "It would be nice to be able to look at you in public." Same meaning, but it's still important to hear the direct version and I couldn't give that to her. I thought waiting was the best choice, I thought our time would come. "Hockey can wait," I told her, knowing that she would understand I was talking about more than just hockey. And just last week… "Next time we're in Rome…"  
  
But now we'll never have a next time. She's gone and it's my fault. 


	3. Haladki

As I watched the reactions of my coworkers, I had a hard time not rubbing my hands together in glee. Oh don't get me wrong, I wish it could have ended differently. But I can't say I'm sorry Bristow is out of our way, and I take great pleasure in seeing Vaughn suffer.  
  
I don't know why I hate him as much as I do. Maybe it was the promotion he got, the promotion that I wanted. Maybe it's because as much as I hate admitting it, he does his job better than I ever will. Or maybe it's the knowledge that he had everything he wanted in the palm of his hand, simply waiting for the right time, while I always seem to come up with the brass ring.  
  
However you slice it, it comes out the same. I hate him and he knows it. He's known it since I tried to get him off the Bristow case months ago. It still irks me that I didn't succeed. According to protocol, he should have been taken off her case, yet he managed to keep what he wanted yet again while I watched it slip through my fingers.  
  
Perhaps that is where the greatest enjoyment lies. For once he has lost something he wanted, and he can't do anything to get it back.  
  
Ah no, the best part is that I caused his pain. I was the one who tipped off the FBI to what kind of car to be looking for, it was because of me that they found her. Michael Vaughn is hurting today, and it's my fault.  
  
  
  
AN: Ok, so Haladki probably isn't as vicious as that… although keep in mind that this is Alias and many people are that bad on the show. Anyway, it fit my story so it stays. 


	4. Devlin

Sitting in my office long after everyone has left, I contemplate the agents who work under me. Vaughn, Weiss, Haladki, and Bristow… both of them. What a crew.  
  
Agent Sydney Bristow is dead. I could tell the instant it happened by the sudden silence from Vaughn's office and the way Haladki's face lit up. I was suddenly saddened by the loss of yet another valuable agent… no, yet another person.  
  
And this one, as it is with so many of them, is my fault. I approved the vehicle requests, I arranged for the jet to be standing by. While I might not have actually taken a physical part in her escape, I certainly helped set it up.  
  
And there are other ways that this is my fault. I've seen Vaughn become attached to Bristow, far more than is appropriate for an agent/handler relationship. Yet I've left them alone… well for the most part. Perhaps if I'd separated them at the very beginning, he wouldn't have felt driven to help her and she would still be safely in the hands of the FBI.  
  
Or I could have told her father no. Granted, saying no to Jack Bristow is not an easy thing, but I could have done it. After all, I am his boss, even though we're friends. I could have chosen not to let our friendship sway me when he asked for my help regarding his daughter.  
  
I know that they will all blame themselves, Jack and Vaughn most notably. But when it comes down to it, I am the senior officer and I made the choice. To quote President Truman, "The buck stops here." An agent of mine is dead, and it's my fault. 


	5. Jack

My little girl is gone, and it's my fault. I had plenty of help, but I was the one who pulled a gun on that arrogant SOB and demanded he tell me where they were keeping Sydney. I know that he was the one who told the FBI what cars to look for… if I'd found a different way to get her location she might still be alive. If I'd simply blown him away… no, I couldn't do that, even though it would have been a favor to humanity.  
  
My phone rings and I pick it up automatically, habit taking over despite the fact that I want to be left alone. "Dad," she whispers and my heart stops. It's her, she's alive. Numbly I chastise her about not being on the way to Italy and then I hear myself agree to meet her before she goes. I know this is dangerous, but I can't deny myself the chance to see her with my own eyes.  
  
The drive to the marina is a blur. The next thing I know, I'm standing in front of my daughter listening in disbelief as she tells me her mother is still alive. It can't be… but it makes sense. It's the only thing about this whole mixed up mess that makes any sense. If Laura is still alive, then the prophecy refers to her… I know enough about Laura to know that if this is so, Rambaldi's description of her is more than accurate, and a shiver runs down my spine. Giving my daughter a hug good bye, I return home.  
  
Later I'm lying in bed, waiting for the sleep that will not come. Laura. Yet another thing that is my fault. Two dozen agents dead because I fell in love with the wrong woman. And what of the pain that mistake has caused my daughter? First believing her mother to be a saint and I the devil himself, then finding out that it was actually the reverse. I want nothing more than to keep Sydney from pain, yet all I seem to do is cause it.  
  
Finally, I fall into a fitful sleep, merely an hour before dawn. I rise with the sun, prepared for my meeting with Vaughn.  
  
When I arrive at the warehouse, I realize something. Michael Vaughn is in love with my daughter. Oh, I've known for some time that he sees her as more than simply an agent, but this is something more. One look at him tells me I am not the only one who spent a sleepless night, and I feel a pang of guilt as I realize I could have spared him hours of heartache. This too is my fault.  
  
"I have good news," I tell him guardedly.  
  
"What? You figured out how to tell Sloane that Sydney won't be meeting him on Tuesday?" he asked.  
  
"No, I found out that she will be meeting him on Tuesday, if all goes according to plan," I reply evenly.  
  
His head jerks up and his eyes flame with anger. "What the hell are you trying to pull?" he asks heatedly. "Syd is dead, there's no way that's going to happen."  
  
"Actually she's not. Right now she should just be landing in Rome, if I have it right." I can tell by the look on his face that he's still not comprehending this, so I tell him bluntly. "She didn't die Vaughn… she used the air in the tires to wait the police out and resurfaced when it was safe."  
  
I would have paid good money to see the look of utter shock that crossed his face. "She's not… you mean… and she… wow!" was all he managed to say before he collapsed onto a crate.  
  
My lips twitch in amusement and I say, "No, she's not dead. I won't try to interpret the rest of what you said enough to answer it, but I guess that piece of information will suffice for now." He nods blankly and I chuckle as I leave. Michael Vaughn is completely boggled, and it's my fault.  
  
  
  
There are probably two or three more parts coming in this… but right now it's almost 5 am and I'm going to bed. 


	6. Sydney, part 1

AN: I'm still chuckling with the person who thought this was a story about Sydney getting drunk… I should have been more clear I suppose, I've been watching and discussing JAG, and we all refer to "Harm's dip in the drink." Guess it rubbed off.  
  
  
  
As I get on the plane, a surge of guilt swells over me. I heard the shock in my father's voice, saw the relief on his face. He'd been worried for me, and it was my fault. It's not everyday you see your daughter drive into the Pacific... I wish I'd been able to call him earlier, to keep him from wondering for hours.  
  
Even the fact that there was no other way around it doesn't take away all the guilt. I feel like I should have been able to keep him from hurting. That's my job in life after all—take care of all the hurts in lives of those around me. When Francie found out Charlie had been cheating on her, I helped her start to get over it by taking off my own ring—something I'd been ready to do for a while, but just hadn't felt the need to. When Dixon was shot, I was there for his family. When Emily told me she was dying, I was there to listen.  
  
Yep, that's Sydney Bristow, always there, you can count on her. So why couldn't I have been there for my dad this afternoon? Why does the government think I'm a threat? You can count on me to do the right thing, that's who I am. How can they think I'd do anything else? What did I do to make them doubt me?  
  
This is ridiculous and I know it. It didn't have anything to do with me. It was all because of Rambaldi—I'm beginning to hate that guy. Why did he have to write this stupid prophecy that sounds like it might be about me but I know isn't? And if it isn't, why did it have to be about my mother?  
  
I hated the look in Dad's eyes when I told him Mom was still alive, and the prophecy had to be about her. I've known for a while that he's not the stoic face he puts on for SD-6, but I was not prepared for the shock and pain that flitted across his face before he controlled it into an expression of muted surprise. That hurt was my fault too. I should have found a different way to tell him, or maybe I shouldn't have told him at all.  
  
No, I know he had to know… he needs to be ready for her when she steps into the open out of the shadows she's been lurking in. It's funny in a way, all my life I imagined my mother was watching over me. Now I know that most likely she was. It might even have been her that suggested Sloane bring me in to SD-6. I used to think that mothers didn't do things like that to their children, but I know that isn't true anymore. Some mothers do. Some mothers are nothing that mothers are supposed to be.  
  
Sighing, I push down yet another wave of guilt. I know it isn't logical, but sometimes I feel like it must have been something about me… that it's my fault she didn't love me. I know that the choice to betray her country, if it ever was *her* country, was completely her own, but did I have something to with the choice to abandon her own daughter? Was I not a good enough child? Didn't she love me enough to stay?  
  
Stay tuned for more from Syd's point of view, as well as one more character… a surprise witness so to speak. 


	7. Sydney, part 2

AN: Thank you so much for all the positive reviews. I'm really enjoying writing this… I think I need to find another mini-series I can write when I'm done. We're still in Syd's POV.  
  
  
  
I did it. Mt. Sebacio looks beautiful at sunset. Fifteen minutes after the sun went down an FBI team extracted me, and now I'm on my way back to LA. I've pulled a lot of quick turn arounds in the last few year, but that has to be the shortest.  
  
I should be able to relax and just sleep all the way home. I mean, I've just proven that I'm not the person in the prophecy. I can get back to my life and Sloane won't kill me because I'll be able to show up for his meeting on Tuesday. For once, it seems like things are going my way.  
  
But something's bothering me. When the boys from the Bureau got to me, they were pretty chatty—a marked contrast to the way they were just 24 hours ago. One of them mentioned how gusty it was for my friends to break me out like that… that they were risking their own careers doing so. I knew this at the time of course, but I thought there might have been a chance that no one would know for sure who did it and they might get away with it, assuming I didn't get back. But this stranger had just told me that they knew who it was.  
  
Vaughn, Weiss, and my father all risked their careers to save me. If they had been wrong, if I hadn't been able to see Mt. Sebacio, their lives would have gone down the toilet with mine. And it would have been my fault.  
  
I know it's silly to be upset about something that didn't happen, but here's the deal: I'm tired of having other people's lives balancing on my head. I have a hard enough time keeping track of my own life, between my friends, classes, work, and "real" work. Some people lead a double life, I lead a quadruple life. I never know who I'm supposed to be in any given situation, and then on top of that the fate of three men rested in my hands?  
  
I can understand my father taking the risk. After all, I'm his daughter and that's what fathers do for their daughters. Our relationship may still have a ways to go, but I know that I can count on him to be there for me in the most important times.  
  
Vaughn… I'm not completely sure why he did it. He's my handler, so maybe if I was locked away as a threat to national security it would have reflected on him. But I don't think he was doing it for any selfish reason. He told me when I was taken into custody that he'd find a way out of this, and he did. He always keeps his promises to me. It feels good to know that there is someone in my life that I can trust in any situation. But because of that, I would have felt even worse if something had happened. He cares too much about me for his own good, and I can't help but think that somehow that is my fault too.  
  
Weiss is the easiest to understand. He's Vaughn's best friend, and he wasn't about to let him do something stupid without backup. In a way I would have felt the least guilt over him, simply because I knew he wasn't really there to help me, he was there for Vaughn. But then Vaughn would have felt guilty, and I would have felt bad because it was me that got them all in this…  
  
This is exhausting. Guilt, especially over things that didn't happen, is pointless. I have two men in my life who are willing to do anything to keep me safe. Instead of worrying about what may happen to them as they attempt to do so, I should be thankful that they care.  
  
I can see the familiar LA skyline as we come in for our final approach. Just as the plane taxies to a stop on the runway, my cell phone rings. "Joey's Pizza?" a familiar voice asks.  
  
"Wrong number," I reply and hang up. Getting off the jet, I take a cab home so I can get in my car and drive to the warehouse. On the way, I briefly wonder why he wanted to meet instead of just talking on the phone. It's a CIA phone, I'm sure the line would have been secure. Before I can come to any conclusions, I catch sight of a tail behind me and my attention turns to losing it.  
  
Twenty minutes later I pull up beside his car. Getting out, I quietly walk into the warehouse. As I peek around the corner, I can tell he hasn't heard me arrive yet. He's pacing and looking at his watch in growing agitation. I start to feel guilty, then I stop myself. Just how fast was I supposed to get here anyway? I smile and step out from behind the crates. "Hey," I say. "Were you waiting for a pizza?"  
  
I watch as the worry lines disappear and are replaced by a grin. It feels good to know that he's glad to see me, happy that I'm ok. He take a step toward me, and for once in my life I forget about what I'm supposed to do and do what feels right instead. Letting out a little sigh, I step into his welcome embrace.  
  
This is what it feels like to be held by someone who cares about you. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like. I can feel the tension ease out of my body, replaced by something new. Happiness of course, but a resolve as well. I will not let this go, not without a fight.  
  
I can feel him pull away mentally before he steps back physically. "I'm sorry," he says, averting his eyes from mine. "I don't know… I guess the emotions of the last 48 hours got to me. I shouldn't have done that."  
  
Reaching out, I turn his head so he is looking me in the eye. "Why?" I challenge.  
  
"Because it's… and you could… what if… what do you mean why?" he asked.  
  
"Why do our lives dictate that we can't be normal people? You said you were worried about me… explain that to me."  
  
His eyes cloud over for a moment, and I can tell this is a subject he really doesn't want to go into, but he does anyway. For me. "When I watched you go into the ocean, I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead and it was my fault, because it was my idea to break you out of federal custody and get you to Italy. I was afraid that I'd never have a chance…" His voice trailed off.  
  
"Never have a chance to do this?" I asked quietly, stepping back into his arms. He resisted for a moment, but then I felt him pull my closer.  
  
"Yeah," he whispered. This time neither of us pulled away, and I inwardly rejoiced that there was one less regret I would have to worry about, one less thing that could be my fault. 


End file.
